


Intro to Calligraphy Insults and Making Out

by srmiller



Series: Kat's Life is a Series of Fanfics Come to LIfe [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 04:25:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7251991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmiller/pseuds/srmiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke loses her sketchbook and finds it only to realize someone has gone through it and graded each of her well thought out sayings such as "YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE AND GOD REGRETS YOU" and initially she's irritated someone GRADED her calligraphy but when they use a word Clarke once professed would let her know who her soul mate was she's certain she's found the future love of her life.</p><p>Then she finds out her good friend is the one who left the grades and she very naturally panics because she is NOT in love with Bellamy Blake.</p><p>Right?????</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intro to Calligraphy Insults and Making Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatMorningstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatMorningstar/gifts).



> [Inspired By True Events](http://maryam0revna.tumblr.com/post/144235535244/oh-my-goddd-tell-us-about-your-nemesis-pls) which never end as well in real life as they do in fics

Clarke found Wells in one of the private study rooms in the library and sat down with a loud thump as she dropped her books on the table.

“I lost my sketchbook.”

He looked up from his laptop but seemed wildly uninterested in her announcement. “Which one?”

“My calligraphy one. I had it in my first class of the day and by lunch I realized I didn’t have it anymore so I retraced my steps and finally found it in at the café in the student center.”

“That’s good,” he murmured in response and Clarke took a deep breath to rein in her patience because as her best friend Wells should really pay her more attention than whatever was on his computer.

“I need you to be paying attention to this story.”

With a heavy sigh Wells turned away from his computer to give Clarke his attention and while it was begrudging she was willing to take it.

“You lost your sketchbook and then found it, I’m very happy for you and the enormous amount of downtime you seem to have in your classes.”

Clarke leaned across the table and tried to see what was on his screen, “Psychology homework? Is that why you’re so grumpy?”

“I talked to my dad earlier.”

Ah, that explained it. “Well this story will make you feel better, I promise, because I met the person I’m going to marry.”

“Really?” he perked up and leaned forward. “Guy or girl?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“How do you not know?”

Clarke picked up her sketchbook and showed it to him. “Because of this.”

“I’m lost.”

“When I finally found I found my sketchbook I looked through it to make sure it was okay and someone had graded it.”

Wells took the sketchbook from her and started flipping through the pages, he’d seen them before because she was often very proud of the things she came up with during her classes, inspired mostly by the Grade-A asshole in her creative writing class who was pretty certain he was a gift to the Universe.

He stopped at a page which had “YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE AND GOD REGRETS YOU” written in a flowy font with flowers, and at the top there was a post-it with “B+” written in a red pen.

“Someone graded your calligraphy?”

“Yeah,” she grinned, coming around the table to sit next to him. “And at first I was super pissed about it because who do they think they are? But they’re actually pretty funny and whoever did it was smart enough not to write on the pages, but put sticky-notes on them so they’re not ruined.”

Wells flipped to the next page, smiled at the picture of a glass with chunks of fruit floating in it with the words “I HOPE I CHOKE ON A FUCKING MANGO AND FUCKING DIE SO I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU ANYMORE.” The correlating post-it gave the page an “A” with added commentary underneath the grade which read “effective use of imagery.”

“Fucking Fucker Shut the Fucking Fuck Up” was given a C, and according to the note would have been marked lower for lack of creativity but the accuracy of the statement warranted extra points.

“They’re in your class?” Wells asked.

“They’d have to be, wouldn’t they? Otherwise how would they know who I’m talking about? Check out the next page.”

It was honestly one of her favorite things she’d ever done, not just because it looked kickass but because it just encapsulated everything she felt about the Fuckface who prevented her from enjoying a class she might have actually liked.

#stopwhiteboyhemingwaywannabehipstertryhards2k16

The note at the top gave the page an “A+” but it was the added note which had solidified her being amused instead of angry at the grades. “Extraordinary display of perspicacity.”

“Holy shit, you’re going to marry this person.”

Clarke clapped her hands, thankful Wells understood. She couldn’t help the grin as she pulled the book back towards her to study the handwriting of her future mate. “Right? I think I’m going to wear a strapless dress and you can be my maid of honor.”

“Are you getting married?”

Clarke and Wells looked up as Raven walked into the room with her rolling suitcase (easier on her knee than carrying a bag) and settled in the seat Clarke had vacated.

“Yep.”

“Congrats.”

Clarke waited patiently for a full five seconds but when it was obvious Raven didn’t plan to ask a follow up Clarke sighed. “You’re not the least bit curious?”

Raven looked up at Clarke, then met Wells’ gaze before rolling her own eyes dramatically. “Fine. What do you mean you’re getting married?”

“When I was fourteen I discovered the word perspicacity and I used it every chance I had.”

“Over used it,” Wells corrected.

“Whatever. It was my favorite word of all time and Wells joked if I was ever put to sleep by a poisoned apple my true love wouldn’t kiss me awake but would use the word ‘perspicacity’ unironically in a sentence.”

Clarke slid the sketchbook across the table so Raven could see the grader had used Clarke’s favorite word and thus was the love of Clarke’s life and future spouse.

Raven tilted her head as she sometimes did when she was working out a problem and flipped through a few of the pages before her lips quirked. Clarke would normally have been happy Raven was getting in the spirit of things but there was something about the curve of her friend’s lips which suggested Raven was laughing  _at_ Clarke, not with her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Raven assured Clarke even as she chuckled and gave Clarke the sketchbook back. “I just wasn’t aware Bellamy Blake was your true love.”

Wells burst out laughing.

“What?” Clarke asked, eyes wide as she clutched the book to her as if to protect it from Raven’s words. “What?”

“That’s Bellamy’s handwriting,” Raven explained.

“That makes sense,” Wells nodded sagely, but his mad grin (which made him look like he’d just escaped Wonderland) ruined the effect. “He’d know who Fuckface is, he met him at that frat thing a month ago.”

Clarke distinctly remembered the party.

Fuckface, who was under the incorrect assumption he and Clarke were frenemies with unresolved sexual tension, had attempted to come to her rescue when he saw her arguing with Bellamy at a party she and her friends had crashed.

When he’d come over and discovered Clarke didn’t need his help in the Grape Kool-Aid vs Cherry Kool-Aid Debate of 2015 he’d redirected the conversation from the benefits of liquid Kool-Aid and popsicle Kool-Aid to, of all things, Jonestown.

Because apparently she and Bellamy needed to be informed where the phrase ‘don’t drink the Kool-Aid’ originated from.

Clarke stopped paying attention immediately and occupied herself by making faces at Bellamy every time Fuckface looked away from her, but she was jarred back to conversation when he started reciting “I have become death” for no apparent reason.

And because it was his duty to bestow wisdom on the masses, Fuckface had turned to Bellamy to explain. “That’s a quote from a man by the name of Oppenheimer.”

“I fucking know who Oppenheimer is,” Bellamy had bit out, and recognizing Bellamy’s temper flaring to the surface Clarke had unceremoniously dumped her drink on Fuckboy’s ugly shirt and either he was the most delusional person on the planet or he was desperate to save face because he pretended like it had been accident before excusing himself.

Clarke and Bellamy had immediately gone in the opposite direction looking for hard alcohol.

“You’re sure this is Bellamy’s handwriting,” Clarke asked Raven.

“Yeah, he’s the only person I know who does that weird loop thing with his fs.”

“Octavia’s going to be your sister-in-law,” Wells pointed out with a laugh.

She might be mildly panicking at the realization she had been unconsciously pairing Bellamy Blake with words like ‘love’ and ‘spouse; but she was determined to keep her cool as she started gathering her things. “I have to go.”

“Are you going to be a June bride?” Wells asked even though she was already headed towards the door.

“Do I have to wear a dress?” Raven followed up and the door shut to the sounds of them both cackling.

Shit, she was never going to live this down.

It wasn’t her fault she hadn’t recognized Bellamy’s handwriting, why would she? In the 21st century there was hardly any reason for them to be passing handwritten notes. But, she admitted to herself, she probably should have recognized Bellamy’s warped sense of humor in grading her designs.

He was majoring in education after all

And it wasn’t that she didn’t love Bellamy, Clarke reasoned to herself as she headed towards her car, because she did.

Bellamy who would literally die for any of the people he cared about but honestly didn’t expect any of those same people to take a bullet for him, not because he thought less of them but because he thought less of himself. Bellamy who fought too hard and laughed too little, whose eyes lit up when he talked about some obscure thing he’d learned in class.

She loved that guy, but she wasn’t  _in_  love with him.

Okay, maybe there had a been a dozen or so times when she’d thought about shutting him up by kissing him. And maybe when he laughed and pushed up those stupid glasses she weirdly got a little turned on but Clarke had learned long ago lust and love didn’t necessarily have any correlation.

You had to trust someone to love them, right? Clarke’s face twisted as she started her car because she had trusted Bellamy to have her back when she’d confronted her then soon-to-be ex. And he had been the one she’d called when she’d decided to put off med school to focus on her art. Then there was the time she’d fallen asleep on his lap and she’d woken up on the couch with his arms around her and she’d just laid there for ten minutes enjoying the sensation.

Clarke slammed on her breaks when she almost ran through a stop sign.

Oh shit. Oh fucking shit. Did she love Bellamy?

Was she  _in love_ with Bellamy?

She couldn’t ask Wells, not after what had just happened in the library so Clarke used her Bluetooth to call Monty and when he answered with a cheery ‘hey’ she skipped formalities and blurted out, “Am I in love with Bellamy?”

There was a moment of silence during which Clarke’s life passed in front of her eyes.

“Yeah? I mean, I thought that was the generally accepted reason why you haven’t dated anyone in a while.”

“I don’t date because I’m in love with Bellamy?” she repeated as she tried to remember the last time she’d dated.

“Well, I mean you were with Fin and then you were off on that study abroad thing for a term and when you came back Bellamy was with Gina. You hooked up with that chic at the bar and then never talked about her again and haven’t dated anyone else. I guess I just thought you were pining but then Bellamy and Gina broke up a couple months ago and you never made a move so I don’t know.”

“I was not pining after Bellamy.”

“Okay, then ask him out.”

“What?” Clarke asked as she gave the speakers a sharp look as if Monty could see her through them.

“Ask. Him. Out,” Monty repeated carefully. “Do you or do you not think he’s hot?”

“Well, of course he’s hot.”

“Do you or do you not enjoy being around him?”

Clarke had flashes of arguing with Bellamy, of laughing with him, of resting her head on his shoulder as they watched a movie. “Yes.”

“Then it would seem, to me at least, the logical thing to do when you’re attracted to someone you like being around is to ask them out. But then what do I know, I’m just in a stable and happy relationship with the guy of my dreams.”

“Fuck you,” Clarke replied and Monty laughed.

“Let me know what happens.”

Clarke promised she would and hung up, a few minutes later she was pulling into her parking spot at her apartment complex.

Could she actually do it? Could she ask out Bellamy Blake and not have it end in disaster?

Would it be worth it, even if it did?

She took a minute just sitting in her car to figure out how Bellamy had gotten a hold of her sketchbook in the first place because it was easier to think about than asking Bellamy Bake out on a date. (How do you even do that? Ask someone you’ve known and been friends with for years out on a date? What do you even talk about?) The only thing she could think was when she’d left it in the school’s coffee shop Maya, who worked there and knew Clarke and Bellamy and the rest of the gang through Jasper, had found the sketchbook and given it to Bellamy when she’d seen him later that day.

But instead of taking it with him, he’d simply graded each of the pages and given it back to Maya.

Picking up the sketchbook off her passenger seat she flipped through the pages, rereading the comments and the grades with Bellamy’s voice in her head she couldn’t help but feel a little warm. He’d done this for her, with her in mind, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever known anyone who got her as well as he seemed to.

Figuring it would be easier to wrap her head around everything with a very large glass of wine she grabbed her stuff and went into her apartment. After a long drink of the two sweet wine someone had left in her house she picked up her pens and made a decision she prayed she wouldn’t end up regretting.

The next the day the wait was excruciating.

She’d dropped off the sketchbook with Maya at the café and thankfully hadn’t asked a lot of questions but assured Clarke if Bellamy didn’t come around by three she’d text him and let him know there was something he needed to grab.

By 3:30 Clarke was home and going a little crazy.

Had he seen the sketchbook? Had he looked through it? Did he understand the newest design was for him?

When she looked at her phone at four she was cursing Bellamy. Four fifteen she was adding Raven, Wells, and Monty to the list.

She was considering what was left of the wine from the day before when she heard the knock at her door and she was too busing regretting every decision she’d made in her life to wonder who it might be. So, when she pulled open the door and saw Bellamy standing there it took a moment for her to understand what was going on.

“Hi.”

He was holding her sketchbook under his arm.

“Hi,” she replied lamely.

Bellamy shifted on his feet as if he was waiting for something. “Can I come in?”

“Shit,” she stepped out of the way. “Yeah. Come on in,”

He walked into her living room and turned to face her, and she could see her own nervous energy reflected in the way he kept shifting his weight on his feet.

“So.”

“So,” she repeated. “I see you found my sketchbook. Again.”

The corner of his lips quirked in an almost smile. “How did you figure out it was me?”

“Raven,” Clarke admitted. “She recognized your hand writing. And honestly, once she told me it was you I kind of felt like an idiot for not realizing it before that.”

He smiled and put his hands in his pockets. “I figured signing my name to it would make it too easy for you.”

“And we wouldn’t that.” She looked down at the sketchbook still tucked against his side. “Any chance I can get it back?”

“Oh, yeah.” He held it out to her and when her fingers brushed against his there was a charge of electricity which shot down her entire body and when her gaze collided with his she wondered how she had missed this, missed him.

How had she not seen it earlier?

“Did you look at it?” she asked through a suddenly dry throat and he nodded.

Clarke opened the book and flipped to the page she had spent almost an hour on the night before.

It was a design she had redone twice, but in the end she’d been confident in the straight lines of the words and the constellations which made up the background.

“ARE YOU GONNA KISS ME OR NOT?”

She saw the post-it in the corner and braced herself for whatever it might say. In bright red ink was a single letter and Clarke could honestly say it was the last thing she’d expected. 

“An F?” she asked incredulously as she looked back up at him.

He shrugged, but there was something different about him all of the sudden, a confidence which hadn’t been there a moment ago. For some reason it made Clarke’s heart speed up. “It was going to be an A+ but it got marked down for being late.”

Clarke laughed and dropped the book on the table. “Exactly how late am I to go from an A+ to an F?”

He stepped towards her. A slow, steady walk which had all the earmarks of a predator eyeing its prey.

“About 25 years too late.”

Clarke laughed, he was 26.

He smiled but his eyes were serious as he reached out to frame her face with his hands, the pads of his thumb caressing her cheekbones. “Okay. Maybe not a quarter of a century but sometimes it feels like it’s been an eternity.”

“I’m here,” she told him softly.

“You haven’t always been,” he pointed out and she had to nod in agreement even as her arms wrapped around his middle to hold him close.

“But I am now,” Clarke told him and tilted her head as she smiled. “And I’m willing to do a lot of extra credit work to make up my grade.”

He grinned, big and wide and Clarke’s heart fluttered against her ribs.

Bellamy nodded as he leaned forward. “I think we might be able to work something out.”

“Good,” but he didn’t move any close, just kept his gaze steady on hers and she refused to be the one to make the first move. “Fuck, Bellamy. Are you going to kiss me or not?”

“Yeah, Clarke. I’m going to kiss you.”

And he did, barely contained and a little wild he pressed his mouth to her and drove her crazy with lips and tongue and teeth, his hands sweeping over her curves until she was vibrating with want.

She wanted.

“Hey, Bell?”

“Yeah?” he asked as she grinned at the breathless sound of his voice.

“Want to get started on that extra credit tonight?”

He swore under his breath before he hooked his arm behind her knees and literally swept her off her feet. “Fuck yes.”

By the time Clarke and Bellamy were sprawled on the bed, naked and grinning at each other Clarke was pretty sure she’d make up the f in no time.


End file.
